


Five Things Shirabu Knows and The One Thing He Didn't

by AU Mer-Maid (neonstardust)



Series: Dork Drabbles [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Drabble Collection, Hockey, Ice Skating, One Shot, Prose Poem, Very Mild Mentions of A Sports Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 02:44:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20184946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonstardust/pseuds/AU%20Mer-Maid
Summary: Hockey and ice skating go together like fire and ice, like oil and water.Or at least, that's what Shirabu thought before he met Yahaba, the fire to his ice.





	Five Things Shirabu Knows and The One Thing He Didn't

Shirabu knows he isn't romantic.

He isn't sentimental. He doesn't plan elaborate dates and fancy dinners. He can't even remember the first time he met Yahaba. But he can remember graceful twirls and a pair of lucky ice skates. He can see the rink before him, so cold it leaves his nose slightly pink, and a single skater practicing long after everyone else had left.

In his heart, Shirabu knows he will never forget Yahaba's rosy cheeks and breathless smile when he first asked, "What's your name?"

Shirabu knows he’s bad with affection.

His harsh glare and cutting sarcasm are better fit for the hockey matches where he belongs. But lingering touches ghost across his skin like phantoms. Warmth spreads between clasped hands. A celebratory hug pushes all worries from Shirabu’s mind as he lifts Yahaba off his feet as they spin, Yahaba’s smile brighter than his first-place medal. Weight crushes down on Shirabu’s shoulders as he carries Yahaba off the rink, a sprained ankle, red and swollen, hovering above the ice.

For Shirabu, affection isn’t casual; it’s a promise: you’ll never be alone.

Shirabu knows he’s bad with words.

Always too silent or too salty, he keeps his thoughts buried beneath aggression, indifference. And yet, he remembers the goofy stories Yahaba shares over mugs of hot cocoa and the promises whispered under the darkness of bedsheets. Without thinking, he memorizes the dates of Yahaba’s competitions and doctor’s appointments, adjusting his schedule to never miss even one.

It isn’t until Yahaba squeezes his hand that he learns, some things can be spoken without words.

Shirabu knows his temper is terrible.

From bad movies to foul plays, his anger burns, bubbling over, until he’s seated in the penalty box. With a tongue made of acid, he excels at pushing people away when things got too cozy, keeping the world at arm’s length where it belongs. Yet, when Shirabu throws the television remote through the window, it’s Yahaba who tackles him to the floor, battering him with insults and affection all at once, each touch always rough, yet gentle. Hands that once punched through drywall learn to caress freckled skin.

His anger melts like springtime frost under a warm smile not his own.

Shirabu knows their time on the ice is drawing to an end.

Shirabu spends less and less time in matches; Yahaba spends more days with a doctor. Tension resides deep in joints that were once limber. But Shirabu laces up Yahaba’s lucky skates with nibble fingers, and Yahaba hands him a hockey stick with a broad smile.

It is then Shirabu knows some things remain permanent. The ice may not be his home, but this place in Yahaba’s heart will be.

It is then Shirabu knows, nothing else matters.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the story that changed "anonymous" asks to "my" asks, my big reveal, and so it is only fitting it be the first fic I post to this series.
> 
> I'm also incredibly biased because it's my favorite :)


End file.
